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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23925250">Parce Mihi Placet</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/asterclouds/pseuds/asterclouds'>asterclouds</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Drama, Bystander Arthur, Church scene, Dark Past, Death, Demon Antonio, Demons, Fights, Friendship, Gen, Moral Dilemmas, Priest Francis, Relationships Not Focus, Sins, Soul Collection, Soul Selling, Supernatural - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:20:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,997</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23925250</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/asterclouds/pseuds/asterclouds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He fled France to hide away in England, hoping that the cover of a old church roof would protect him from his past. Francis doesn't want to die. He isn't ready. He has to find forgiveness, he has to clear his soul.</p><p>One night, it seems his luck finally runs out,  however. A demon has found him and comes seeking payment for a contract. And of all the demons that could have come for him it just had to be THIS one!</p><p>A frantic fight for survival, a series of games and a testimony of friendship ensues.</p><p>* * * * *</p><p>Or, alternatively: Francis needs some serious help, Antonio needs a soul for Hell and Arthur needs to start socialising more.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>England/France (Hetalia), England/Spain (Hetalia), France/Spain (Hetalia)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>For all the weeks he had been there, in that village and the sanctified walls of its quaint Norman church, this one night was proving to be the coldest and loneliest he had experienced. Sometimes he wondered where the logic had been in hiding away in a church, a roman collar around his neck and a prayer at the end of his tongue. He could have picked a much smaller priest hole to hide in. But the church helped him feel safer than any concealed room could, so perhaps it was not such a mistake; after all, he was in the middle of the English countryside, surrounded by fields and rivers and no more than forty-six people (and another two soon on the way!). How could he </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>be safe?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was late – the watch on his wrist was nearing one o’clock in the morning – and he had spent that past four hours pacing, kneeling and sitting in the pews, doing a mixture of praying, hoping and trying to keep himself awake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did not do this often, knowing that sleep was important, but it was because of the day he had had and the things he had witnessed that made him believe one simple thing: his safety was waning. That was why he was now knelt at the altar, reciting over and over the Lord’s Prayer. Up until some five weeks ago, such words would not have left his mouth with such severity and meaning. Now, he wished he had been the good priest he had once trained to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he prayed, lost in the words of his forgotten profession, a light breeze broke through his concentration and brushed over the bare skin of his hands. The priest finished his prayer with haste. He stood up. He turned around to stare down the candlelit aisle, only to see that one of the wooden doors into the church was slightly open, allowing the cold night wind to slip inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I suppose I didn’t shut it properly</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he mused to himself. What else could he think? He walked along the red rug that covered the stone floor toward the church entrance and he pulled the door closed, being sure to check it was as closed as it could be without needing to lock it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It may even have been the wind itself</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He entertained the thought and he wiped his hands on his dark trousers and made to return to his prayer book at the altar. However, where the sight of an open door had only slightly disturbed him, he was now met with something that caused his hairs to stand on end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sat on the altar with a prayer book in hand was the one creature he had hoped he would never have to see again. But there he was, in the flesh, an easy smile on his features and venom undoubtedly lurking in the veins under his skin. He was dressed in the same dark get-up (black hoodie, black jeans, black shoes, and those rattling chains and keys attached to his belt; he was his own slave and his own master). he had been wearing the first time they had met. His hair was the same brown mess as always; his eyes were still that same vivid green, peering at him through the dim candle-light as he perches there, content.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing him in that moment, Francis knew that any safety he previously had was now almost well and truly gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see you’re already three-hundred and fifty pages into this thing. Is it really that good a read?” the figure questioned as he flicked aimlessly through the pages, his eyes never leaving the priest at the other end of the church. “Or are you just that seriously desperate to save yourself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?” the priest demanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was a sanctuary. </span>
  <em>
    <span>His</span>
  </em>
  <span> sanctuary. And yet somehow, this wicked thing had gotten inside and dared to </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathe</span>
  </em>
  <span> as if the house were his own. As a priest, he was repulsed and was already thinking of the best ways to expel the other from this sacred ground as quickly as possible. However, as a human, his thoughts were easily clouded and his judgements fogged, just as they had been the very first time they had crossed paths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s just say, you absolutely suck at hide-and-seek, Franny.” The figure set the book down and slipped off the altar, straightening himself up, before he pocketed his hands. “You would have been better hidden in a nunnery, in all honesty, especially with that beautiful hair of yours. Though, saying that…” he mused, lips slightly pursed, “the beard might have been a bit of a giveaway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going to be playing any games with you, demon. Tell my why you’re here, why now,” Francis persisted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon gave a soft laugh, leaning back against the stone block behind him. “Is that not obvious? You still have a debt that needs paying, and luckily for you, I’m your designated debt-collector! Isn’t that wonderful?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hardly—</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The thing is,” the brunette said, irrespective, “death is something that is inevitable for you humans. And yet, you always try to run from it. Like you, for example: you ran to a whole other country, just to try and hide away from what you knew was coming! But it doesn’t make any sense to me.” He tilted his head slightly as he peered more intently at the human. “You can’t run from death anymore, Fran. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The priest felt a small lump building up in his throat. He hadn’t been running from death, he had been running from something much, much worse, and now it had found him. He thought he had been careful. He thought he had been smart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No you’re not,” he eventually refuted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m not,” the demon concurred with a familiar chuckle. “Remember that contract you signed back six years ago? It was declared void the day you left France. Payment has been called for by the High Courts, and you know He doesn’t like being made to wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Francis didn’t know what that meant, the High Courts, the significance of him fleeing France. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Home</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And what did ‘void’ mean? Surely, it meant he was free of it, right? He was no longer tied to the contract! But it appeared that the news was not good – not for him – when he noted how the other was still smiling, relaxed in his stance and confident in his reasons to be there. This was no good sign.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had been twenty years old and naïve when he had put his signature on that stupid piece of paper. For a while, he had thought it had been some elaborate dream; it was only when he had first met the demon walking towards him – Antonio, he had called himself – that he realised it had all been real. That the Devil was as alive as the Hell he led.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still don’t understand,” the blonde said, raising his hands as a sign of goodwill and truce. He could only hope the other had the decency to indulge him. “What do you mean, it has been ‘declared void’? You told me nothing of this when I saw you back in France before I left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh come on, seriously? You don’t know?” the demon asked, now only a few paces away. When Francis shook his head, his obliviousness blatant on his face, he couldn’t quite believe it. “That day you left France was the day we saw each other before now. You know what we did was— Gosh, did you not read the small print on the contract when you signed it? That’s the one thing they say to do—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Who reads the small print</span>
  </em>
  <span>?! I thought I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>imagining</span>
  </em>
  <span> the whole thing, I was beyond drunk and </span>
  <em>
    <span>clearly</span>
  </em>
  <span>, someone took advantage of me!” Francis defended with a scowl on his face, a fire in his veins. “You can’t blame this on me! If anything, the contract should have </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>been void because I wasn’t of clear mind when I put my name on it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean you weren’t ‘consenting’? The rules for sex don’t apply to signing contracts, you know,” Antonio remarked. He even dared to roll his eyes, flippant.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bastard.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“People can still feel pressured into doing things,” Francis hissed back vehemently. “You weren’t there, anyway, so what do you know about it? It was only me and— And </span>
  <em>
    <span>Him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so… It’s between us! If he wants something, he can come and get it himself.” It was worth a try, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He doesn’t make a habit of getting his hands dirty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Or not</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “And you do, I suppose?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t mind doing it from time to time,” Antonio said with a light shrug, somewhat non-committal, as if he wasn’t sure himself of the answer he was giving. “It makes a good excuse for coming up here. I just got lucky when it was your case I was given, considering our… Special little history.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish it were </span>
  <em>
    <span>ancient </span>
  </em>
  <span>history,” came the curt reply. But in spite of these Sisyphean arguments, Francis was still not satisfied; the question had been avoided and he was no longer willing to be party to these games. He had done so too many times with this demon of his. He had to find a way to shake himself free of him, and soon. “Just give me a straight answer already. You have come here to do a job, but you continue to dance around with your words— And I still don’t see why you’re only </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> starting to hound me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, the brunette’s smile faltered and slowly caved. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, was the message that the priest seemed to pick up from his mannerisms, but he daren’t say more as the demon lifted a hand and summoned up a scroll of paper in a bright flash of white fire with a mere click of his fingers. Francis eyed him wearily as he unrolled it and dragged his big eyes across the words splattered there in ink. What was he reading? The contract? He got his answer when Antonio turned it around to show him and began to recite an extract from its terms:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The integrity of this contract stands until the mortal signatory renounces the word of the Almighty and falls subservient to three of the great Seven Sins. Until then, they are free to live as they please; but after that threshold is crossed, their soul is subject to retrieval with no further negotiations possible,” he stated as the priest became as white as his collar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The revelation was not exactly welcome. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Where did I miss tha— Oh, the damned small print! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Though in reality, it was actually now Francis who was the damned one. It would have been ironic had it not also been so tragic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now he understood to some extent what had happened and how his actions in the past couple of years (and months and weeks) had brought about his downfall. Lucifer had given him his life back when he had turned twenty, and only now was Francis aware that it had never truly left the Devil’s hands. It was incredulous: the Devil’s poor priest!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Father,” Antonio pressed on, returning the contract to the nether world from whence he had drawn it. “Envy, Gluttony, and Lust have taken a hold of your soul. How does it feel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Awful? Terrible? Really, there weren’t sufficient words in any language he knew that perfectly summed up the anguish he felt inside. Yet, something did not add up to him. He knew his faults, he knew where he had strayed far from the righteous path, but there was just one of those three sins that he also knew did not belong next to his own name…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s unjust. You have no right to kill me, to take me away,” he tried to protest in that moment. He had to seize the opportunity of escape. Francis refused to go down without some kind of fight. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> are the one reason I ever fell to that final sin – you are nothing but manipulative, lustful, poisonous, and you know it. So that one is on you, not me! I should not be penalised for </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> doings!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Antonio, however, was not to be swayed. He seemed a little agitated by the accusation, confident in his right to the other’s spirit. “I am not the one who was unable to resist the temptation,” he insisted, nearing the other still. “You of all people should have known better, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Father</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, Francis may have been right – he may have been led on – but at the end of the day, no one else was controlling his thoughts and actions. He could have stopped himself. He could have erased the brunette from his mind and memory. He could have simply ignored him when he had made his advances. And besides, Antonio was simply doing his duty, acting out his purpose. How was he to know that he would be the reason for Francis’ downfall?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Besides,” he went on, “we both know you enjoyed it. Even when you had that pretty blonde thing two years ago – a sweetheart, she seemed to me – it didn’t stop you from taking my hand every now and then. Along with a few other things…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>tricked</span>
  </em>
  <span> me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You kissed me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You led me on!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you led me to your room,” Antonio said, a laugh playing on tainted lips. He shook his head at the desperation he could feel coming from the other, and gave a somewhat sympathetic smile. “I could debate this with you forever, </span>
  <em>
    <span>cariño</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but I don’t think it will be very helpful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But— But—” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Come on, Francis, there has to be something you can say that will help</span>
  </em>
  <span>! He had never been so scared of death until that moment, and he knew it would only get worse from there. He tried to stumble back, away from the demon, but he only matched his steps. “Y-You have to buy me some more time! I’m not ready, I-I haven’t prayed for absolution, I haven’t had a chance to reconcile with the past!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that is my fault how…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I— You—” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ah, yes, another corner you’ve backed yourself into. Fantastic work as always. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurt his head and his heart to think this would be how it ended, with him virtually on his knees, begging to be spared for even a few moments more. He had apologies to make. People to say goodbye to. Forgiveness to seek. And even then, all this time – for all the weeks he had been in that English church, praying away, how much had been sincere? He had thought all of it. But if this were still his end, then how could it have been?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had not been delivered from evil nor forgiven for his trespasses. He knew it now. He knew it from the intrusive thoughts that had still plagued him at night: the celibacy of the day job being replaced by a carnal desire within the heart; the piety of his words being replaced by the foul curses of other undeserving people; the calmness and serenity of his mind being replaced by violent and bloodied dreams.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I still think about you…” The words spilled from his mouth quietly, with a great shame lingering in their syllables. His gaze had fallen to the floor. “You, the things I have done, t-the people I have wronged…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently only the first five words had made it to the demon, and he had started to look at the mortal with something different: pity. Francis hadn’t expected to see such an emotion, but he had to lap up the sudden opportunity. This was it: his way out. Of course! Emotional manipulation! Gosh, he sounded like a psychopath to himself, but he figured the circumstances provided an exception that meant he was allowed to feel excited. So, his new act continued as he tried to wipe up his blooming tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t a… V-Very nice person when we last met,” he mumbled, sheepish. “I said some things that— I know I was hurtful, but I didn’t mean it. I— You mean a lot to me…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was all he needed to say for now. A finger was pressed to his lips, silencing him, and he met a gentle, warm green gaze with his own blurred blue one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Antonio said softly (how a demon could sound so angelic was sacrilegious). He moved his hand to help dry the other’s cheeks, his skin a little cold against Francis’, and he let it eventually rest against his pallid face, simply holding it. “I know I never made things easy, but I don’t… I don’t often find someone like you – someone who I can’t help but keep going back to…” A laugh. “I guess that makes you right, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About what…?” Francis asked in turn, a light sniffle coming from him. He even put his hand over Antonio’s, just for added dramatic effect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The whole </span>
  <em>
    <span>lust</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing,” he responded. “Being an incubus makes it natural, of course, but… I do suppose it means I… Pushed you, didn’t I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, never…” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Every single time.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I can— Maybe I can convince Him to give you a little longer?” Antonio offered up without needing a prompt. His smile became a bit coy, a silent request hanging in the air between them for a moment, and his human counterpart could read it easily. But he was as impatient as he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>enchanti—</span>
  </em>
  <span> annoying! “Or, maybe not…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Antonio withdrew his hand but they maintained their proximity (when had they gotten so close to each other?), eyes fixed. Neither seemed capable of moving. Francis didn’t know what to do or what to say, but at the same time, he felt no need to do anything. The chaos of the situation had dispersed so suddenly… The danger he had felt was no longer there, nor the fear, nor the panic… There was only calm. It was almost laughable when he considered why the demon was there. But he couldn’t fight it, that urge to do… Nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately for him, it quickly proved to be a damaging weakness. He had been reeled in once more by those eyes, that smile, and now he would pay the price.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A burning sensation erupted in his chest and the priest gave a pained cry as he suddenly pushed away from the other, instinct telling him that Antonio was the danger (if only they had kicked in a little sooner). The demon was pushed into the pews and the priest stumbled forward, back towards the altar, panic-stricken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, when he clutched at his shirt over the spot he had felt the pain, there was nothing there. No blood, no tears in the fabric… And the pain had gone as quickly as it had come. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What just happened</span>
  </em>
  <span>…? His answer came when he looked back to Antonio through rejuvenated tears and saw in his hand something he didn’t recognise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s half of the package,” the demon remarked. He glanced at the flame-like orb in his palm, small but a brilliant white, before he blew it out like a candle. His gaze shifted to Francis, who was straightening himself out, and his playful, childlike side came back out. “You moved too quickly, Franny! I couldn’t grab it all! Come back here so I can take the rest of it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why on earth would I want to do that?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be</span>
  <em>
    <span>cauuuse</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he drawled in a whine, “it would mean we can wrap this up nice and quickly, and I can go home and sleep!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I thought you were going to help me!” Francis cried out all the same. He had thought he was getting somewhere, he had thought he was being given another chance!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You also thought I value you more than I value the law of the afterlife!” Antonio countered with a light giggle. “I might seem a little naïve, or easily swayed, but I’m not. You can’t play me! I’ve been alive far too long for someone who’s only known the world for a few years to have any sort of influence over me and my mind.” He flashed a smooth grin and even gave a wink. “I thought you already knew that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was bad news. If that really were a part of Francis’ soul that the demon had just ripped from his chest, how could he get it back? What chance did he have of surviving without it? Heavens, what chance did he have of surviving </span>
  <em>
    <span>Antonio</span>
  </em>
  <span>? The incubus had lured him in too many times and weakened him. He had to stand up to him, he had to fight off the evil and resist the temptation that radiated from the demonic being.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily for him, he was in the ideal location.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Making a hasty decision, Francis made a sudden dash for the altar. Antonio paid little mind and watched him run, enjoying the desperate spectacle as he walked slowly after him. From the altar, the priest grabbed a wooden crucifix and he clutched it tight in his hand. This had to protect him. He pulled it close to his chest and the Lord’s Prayer slipped out of his mouth before he turned around to face the demon, more confident. More safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is a house of God,” he professed, matching the other’s smile with a scornful glare, “and the sign of the cross shall protect me from your evil!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held the crucifix out in front of him like it were a weapon. Antonio’s smile quickly dropped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, um—” The brunette stopped his movements and even took a small step back. “T-There’s no need for that, Fran. I’m just doing my job! If it were up to me I’d let you live a free life, b-but I don’t make the rules!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing this was another chance, Francis began to step closer to the demon, the cross as his shield. “I don’t care,” he said, sharp and to the point. “You would still hurt me! Take my soul!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least it’s quick! A brief pain and then freedom! Hell is not as bad as you have all been brainwashed to believe,” Antonio tried to insist, but he continued to move backwards as Francis continued to walk towards him. The fear in his eyes was growing more noticeable. “Just give it a chance!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Never!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A burst of energy surging in him, the priest charged towards the demon with the hopes of chasing him out or otherwise vanquishing him from that place. Antonio, to his surprise, did not move, but he did stumble back and give a desperate ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>no!</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ as Francis suddenly came at him. His fear was real. Francis could hear it, he could see it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, just as easily as he had witnessed the fear in a demon – something undocumented when only humans were involved – he had witnessed it leave. Centimetres were between them. The crucifix was practically in Antonio’s face. But now the dread and cowering had changed into a soft, growing laughter, as green eyes stared past the wooden cross and at the priest. Francis felt his heart plummet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I applaud your effort and determination, but…” He raised a hand and, in a feat that put all of Francis’ faith to question, he grabbed the crucifix and they held it together. Equals. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I am doomed. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I am more powerful than you know, and your precious God up in Heaven respects the contracts too much to get involved and stop me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde released his grip of the cross, leaving it in Antonio’s hand, and he could only stare in disbelief as the demon held it with no sign of pain nor burning. That shouldn’t have been possible. How? How was he doing that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not just any old incubus, Franny,” he said as though he had read the other’s mind (such a revelation would come as no shock at this point in time). His smile grew and his eyes seemed to light up, predatory, a cheetah in the grass. “I am more than that. It’s why He cannot and will not hurt me, even in his own church.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-Who are you…?” The words were weak, pathetic, scared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Antonio gave a hum as he tossed the crucifix far aside. “Haven’t you guessed yet, </span>
  <em>
    <span>querido</span>
  </em>
  <span>? I am—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The church doors flung open. Both demon and human turned suddenly – one with hope and another with ire – and stared at the interruption, only to find someone was stood there. Another mortal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Francis?” a voice called out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The priest’s eyes widened with a sudden anxiety, recognising the figure, his calm voice, his hazy eyes. “Arthur…?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Dark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>From the outside stepped a blonde, bringing in the winds as he pulled his own jacket tighter around him to shelter him from the cold. “Francis, are you okay?” he asked. “I heard some commotion…”</p><p>The demon stood between both blondes would be no deterrent. Francis didn’t want Arthur to get involved – he wish he had not come over there for his sake – but what could he do? Antonio was staring at the younger blonde, the native Englishman, but he couldn’t see what look was on his face. He dreaded to think. </p><p>But then, his expectation was crushed. The incubus looked over his shoulder to the priest, and gestured towards the other. It was an invitation to speak. He wasn’t even smiling – not maliciously, at least – so perhaps this was Francis’ chance to save Arthur instead of himself. He was already gone. Arthur didn’t have to be a victim too.</p><p>“Everything is fine,” he replied. “Sorry if I was being loud, I, uh, forget sometimes that you live next door to this place.”</p><p>Arthur gave a slow nod. “Alright… But do you need help with anything?”</p><p>“N-No, no! I think it’s fine now, you should just go home—”</p><p>“Don’t you want to introduce me to your friend, Franny?”</p><p>The Frenchman wished he would just shrivel away into nothingness. He turned his gaze to the demon who had unfortunately spoken up, and then looked to Arthur again, whose face had become filled with bewilderment and anticipation.</p><p>“Of course, of course,” Francis gave in. How could he do anything other than oblige? Fighting it wouldn’t help Arthur. He could see it in the way that the incubus’ face had lit up with a toothy grin. “Arthur, this is Antonio. He’s a— A friend.”</p><p>“From France?”</p><p>“Yes.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. “He was just passing through.”</p><p>“Mm, sort of,” Antonio hummed, leaning back against the end of a pew. “We were having an argument, to be honest with you, <em> Arturo </em>.”</p><p>The sultry tone made Francis twitch, but it was Arthur who responded: “You two were having an argument in a church? Seriously?”</p><p>“Yep!”</p><p>“What over?”</p><p>“Nothing import—”</p><p>“A debt.”</p><p>Arthur frowned and searched blindly for the priest, only hoping that he was more or less looking in his direction. “Are you in trouble, Francis…?”</p><p>“He most definitely is,” Antonio assured him with a chuckle. “And it’s going to keep getting worse if he doesn’t get it sorted soon. Poor guy…”</p><p>“How much does he owe?”</p><p>“Arthur, don’t be ridiculous—”</p><p>“Hold your horses there, Franny,” the brunette said, raising a hand towards the Frenchman to keep him quiet. His gaze was fixed on Arthur and he began to slowly pace towards him, keys lightly chinking with the chains dangling around his legs. “I think we should hear your friend out,” he went on. “I’m curious to know how much you’d give, Arthur, considering you barely know him…”</p><p>Now only a few steps were between Antonio and Arthur. The latter hadn’t moved at all, nor had he flinched, and Francis would have found it impressive if it weren’t for the fact that Arthur was blind. If he could see, he was sure his reaction would have been more appropriate. He should have turned and run through the open church doors. He should have run, and never looked back.</p><p>“I know I don’t. A month isn’t long to know someone, but it’s long enough for me to make a judgement on his character,” the Brit asserted, holding his ground. “If you hadn’t already noticed, I can’t see. All I get from people is pity or ignorance – no one pays me any mind, they just say: ‘poor sod’, and carry on. They don’t stop for long. It’s— It’s hard…”</p><p>“Go on…” the demon hummed, taking to steadily circling the other, studying him closely. Francis didn’t like the way he was doing it.</p><p>Meanwhile, Arthur continued: “But Francis, even if he has his somewhat annoying moments, is kinder to me than people I have known for years. He always says hello, asks how I am. He offers his help, even if I am fully independent. He listens to me…” he concluded. “And that’s good enough. I don’t need to see him to know that.”</p><p>Antonio stopped in his circling, standing off to the side and behind Arthur. Something he had said seemed to flip a switch in his brain, and he gave a soft smile, leaning in closer. Francis could not hear what was said. Arthur heard it loud and clear.</p><p>“Tell me,” the brunette whispered to him, “do you wish you could see? That you could see the world around you, the beauty of it all? That you could see him, your dear, dear friend?”</p><p>“Arthur, whatever he is saying, do not listen!”</p><p>But it was Francis that Arthur did not listen to.</p><p>That was what Antonio was so good at: simple words, an easy tone, keeping nice and close to the person he wanted to work with. That was what he did – he drew you in, just like Arthur had been drawn in, and he made you forget where you were and why. The incubus was clever. He was arrogant. He had his hands on Arthur’s shoulders, the world around them nothing but a blur.</p><p>“I can help you see.” The words sank in. Arthur looked frozen in place like a mannequin. “But before I do, I have to ask you and important question.”</p><p>“Which is?”</p><p>“Do you believe?”</p><p>The Brit turned his head towards Antonio, almost colliding, but the demon did not back off. He removed one of his hands from Arthur’s shoulder and lifted it to his cheek. Gosh, it was warm – so warm and soft! Had this been the appeal that Francis had seen? He couldn’t think why else the Frenchman would cling to him in such a way; it was too late to do any good deeds to save himself. Maybe lust was in his veins after all…</p><p>“In what?” </p><p>“In <em> this </em> ,” Antonio responded, stepping back to throw his hands out at the church around them – something for Francis to see and Francis alone. A display. A show. “This <em> religion</em>! Angels, demons, the holy texts—” And the demon came crashing back in, holding the blind man’s face, eyes bright with thrill and excitement. “Do you believe in it all?”</p><p>Antonio noted that Francis had gotten much closer, stood close behind. He didn’t doubt that the blonde would try to intervene in some way, but that would easily be dealt with. God was not going to get involved, nor were any angels, because he was there on business. </p><p>“I suppose,” he replied. Antonio was somewhat surprised that he showed no alarm, as the contact – at the intrusion of personal space. “Though, I’ll admit, Heaven seems too good to be true these days. No one is perfect enough to meet its terms. Why… Why do you ask?”</p><p>“Because you need to believe for this to work. Call it a miracle,” the demon responded. “What about Hell?”</p><p>“Arthur, please, do not <em> answer him </em>—” </p><p>But still, Francis was not there to Arthur. The brunette glanced at his ‘friend from France’ with a smile and a wink. <em> Don’t worry, he’ll be fine</em>, it said. Francis looked far from reassured, however.</p><p>“The bad people in the world have to go somewhere. The afterlife would be chaos if everyone were thrown in together,” Arthur answered in the meantime. His honesty was commendable. “Hell would be the ideal, so, that is what I believe is there.”</p><p>“Good, good...” Antonio hummed out in a comforted agreement. “I like you, Arthur. You’re smart. I think that earns a gift. Stay still, close your eyes, and I will restore your sight…”</p><p>The incubus placed cold fingers to the Brit’s temples. Francis tried to pry him off, desperate, frightened, but there was a force stopping him from touching the demon. He was mortified, terrified of what was to come. And he should have been, because he was going to be revealed for what he was: a bad person who deserved to go to Hell just as Arthur had so rightly said. Oh, it would be such a glorious revelation!</p><p>Words poured from the brunette’s mouth – Latin, quiet and hollow – and Francis could only watch helplessly as the so-called miracle took place. He didn’t know what to do. The crucifix hadn’t helped, prayers would do nothing if the cross wouldn’t… The fear he felt radiated from his very being and the demon was only lapping it up. <em>Savouring</em> it.</p><p>After a few seconds (minutes, it felt like) Antonio stopped whatever incantation he had been reciting and he told Arthur to open up his eyes. So he did. And what was revealed was a sharp pair of green eyes to rival his own, full of life, full of sight, full of utter shock. Arthur blinked as he came to realise he was actually <em> seeing,</em> and Antonio smiled affectionately at him.</p><p>“How is that, hm?” he asked, taking his hands away.</p><p>The loss of contact restored the entire world, and Arthur could see the church they were stood in, the figure who must have been Antonio, and then, at last, Francis. The Brit was too shocked in the moment to realise Francis’ disdain, trying to come to terms with that fact that, after so long spent living in the dark, he could see.</p><p>His gaze soon fell back onto Antonio. “Who— Who are you?”</p><p>Francis was not going to let this be taken from him as well. “He’s a <em> danger </em>,” he said, grabbing a hold of Arthur and leading him back towards the church door, eyes focused intently on the demon. “He’s a monster and you should leave while you can!”</p><p>Arthur, however, was not convinced. He broke free of the other’s grip and stared at him. “That’s all bloody well and good, but let’s just appreciate something: I can fucking <em> see </em>, Francis! He’s just given me back what was stolen from me all that time ago!”</p><p>“Because he is trying to win you over!” Francis protested. All the while, Antonio was simply watching, bemused. “He’s a <em> demon </em>, of course he wants you to like him! That’s how they get you, it makes you an easy target!”</p><p>“Actually,” Antonio countered, hands shoved into the pocket of his hoodie, fiddling with his own fingers, “if you would be kind enough to let me defend myself here…”</p><p>Both blondes looked at him, one more hesitant than the other to let him speak. They both nodded in the end.</p><p>“I only have one target here, Franny,” the demon stated. “So there is only one person I can bring harm to without some heavenly busybody coming down to kick my ass.”</p><p>“Wait, are you actually a demon?”</p><p>“<em>Duh </em>.” Antonio rolled his eyes. Then he stared at Francis, eyes boring into him, smile gone, as he spoke to Arthur. Poor, innocent Arthur. “The debt that needs paying is his soul. He signed a contract with Lucifer himself, and he’s tired of waiting for his payment.”</p><p>He walked towards the hopeless priest and pulled a hand from his pocket placing it on his chest. They looked at each other as though they were eternal enemies, rivals at their final stand against one another, and Antonio was surely the victor. The resignation was in Francis’ sad blue eyes. He had no fight left in him. <em> Fucking finally! </em></p><p>"You know, Arthur,” the brunette said softly, keeping his eyes trained on Francis, “I’d commit his face to memory if I were you, because after tonight, you won’t be seeing him again…”</p><p>The incubus was about to pass his thieving hand through the priest’s chest and claim the remainder of his soul. He could feel the spirit within him trying to break free and run, but there was nowhere to go. He could see Francis’ acceptance of damnation. He could almost taste that sweet, honeyed reward that would be coming his way once he returned to Hell with his prize—</p><p>“N-No, wait!”</p><p>But he was stopped by a simple cry.</p><p>Arthur held Antonio’s wrist, pulled his hand away from Francis, and then took that cold, cruel hand in his own. The brunette didn’t know what to do. He could have – should have – pushed him off and finished the job he was there to do, but…</p><p>“Can’t you show some kindness?” Arthur pleaded (Antonio only wished he were on his knees; the scene would have been <em>priceless</em>). “You did for me, and it was not even asked of you. You gave me something I never thought I would have back!”</p><p>“You think that was… Kindness?”</p><p>“What else would it be?” the blonde insisted. His hand was… Warm. Like his face had been. Warm and soft… “You are a demon. Fine. But you are stood in a church, on holy ground, and you have not burst into flame. Your powers have not been weakened. Surely, that means there is some good in you?”</p><p>“Arthur, please,” Francis tried to reason with him, “this fight is lost. Don’t try to save me, I’m not worth it…”</p><p>Even so, the request was puzzling to the demon. </p><p>“Yes you are!”</p><p>Why did Arthur care so much?</p><p>“No, really… I deserve this…”</p><p>Did he not understand…</p><p>“<em> No </em>!”</p><p>…that rules were rules? That Francis had done this to himself? That everything he was saying was true? That he did deserve this, that there was no more running from it, that he finally had to repent, show penitence, pay for what he had done…</p><p>“Everyone is worth saving, dammit!”</p><p>Antonio stopped looking idly at the distance and looked instead to Arthur, who was still holding his hand. <em> Warm, soft… Weak… </em>He stole the Brit’s attention once more and made him meet his gaze. The other was showing a desperation that Francis had previously possessed. What the fuck was it with mortals? Couldn't any of them just die and be done with it? He gave a pitying sigh.</p><p>“Arthur, Arthur, Arthur,” he murmured, running the back of his hand over the other’s cheek. “What about killers? Adulterers? Rapists? You said yourself that bad people should go to somewhere like Hell, and that is where they go. So… What makes you so sure that Francis is none of those things?”</p><p>“Because he’s not.”</p><p>“Oh, but he is. Right, Franny?” Antonio said, continuing to look at Arthur intently as Francis, the bad man he was, said ‘yes’. It felt so <em> good </em>. “That collar around his neck means nothing, sweetheart.”</p><p>“He— He’s still worth saving. People can change. You just have to give them a chance.”</p><p>The demon’s look soured. His hold on Arthur’s hand turned into a ferociously tight grip, causing the blonde to give a sudden cry of pain as his fingers were partially crushed. Antonio tutted. <em> Wrong answer. </em> And he shoved the human over into the pews, sending him across the aisle with little effort. With a crack and thud, Arthur collided with the seating and fell to the hard ground.</p><p>Had he lied about being able to hurt him? Of course he had. Francis had not been wrong when he called him manipulative. Hopefully, Arthur would be wise enough now to stay down.</p><p>What he hadn’t quite expected to follow, however, was Francis retaliating on Arthur’s behalf. It appeared his fire had returned (that or the fool was in love again, tch). Good, then. The demon summoned up some strength to pry the weakened Frenchman’s arms from around his neck and threw his head back so that he whacked his nose. The hit sent Francis reeling backwards, but he soon recovered, adrenaline pumping.</p><p>“Not bad for someone missing half their soul,” the brunette remarked as he turned to look at him. </p><p>“Half a soul, but a full spirit,” Francis responded, assertive, confident, ready to fight.</p><p>Antonio hummed. “We’ll see.”</p><p>Knowing that there was little point in hiding away all his proud features, Antonio shed his hoodie. In the time it took for him to pass it over his head, Francis was already hurrying back to the altar at the other end of the aisle. That was no issue. He discarded the heavy item somewhere off to the side, leaving a tight black t-shirt in its place and, behind, an unfurling pair of leathery black wings. Black nails extended into claws, sharp and mean. Through brown curls, two horns protruded, twisting up and around – a ram. A smile blossomed. A dark tail flicked flicked untameably behind his legs.</p><p>Feeling more refreshed, Antonio began his pursuit. He followed after Francis, maintaining a confident walking-pace, the chains once again sounding off with each step. But now they were joined by the tail thumping against the ground or against the end of the pews, and an amused laughter bubbling up into the air.</p><p>Francis had picked up a candlestick from the altar table and had decided to arm himself with it. </p><p>“What a brutish, violent choice of weapon!” the incubus teased coyly. He ran his tongue over his white teeth as he grinned wide. “What are you going to do? Are you going to hit me with it? Bash my head in? Beat me into an unrecognisable pulp?”</p><p>It struck a nerve. “It’s a temptation I’m finding hard to resist, I’ll admit,” Francis spat back vehemently. “You lied to me! You said you couldn’t hurt him!”</p><p>“I also said I’m not any old demon,” Antonio retorted. And an idea bloomed with the scene before him and he stopped walking, tilted his head, and put a hand on his hip as he relaxed into his stance. “You wanna see some of the fun things I can do, Franny?”</p><p>He didn’t need an answer to tell him to continue. Antonio simply raised a hand, then clenched it into a fist, and all of the candles that provided light in the church were extinguished in an instant. He fell into the darkness he so fondly called home, and he had pulled both Francis and Arthur with him.</p><p>It did not completely deter his companions, he noted from his newfound hiding place by the altar to which he had easily slipped, lurking in the omnipresent shadows; the dark did not seem to scare them so much. It should have.</p><p>“Arthur, you need to get out of here,” Francis instructed, hurrying to his hurt friend to make sure he was alright. Fortunately for him, he seemed only slightly winded, adrenaline no doubt pumping through his system as well. “This is no place for you. I’m sorry, but you must—”</p><p>“If I leave, I leave you to die,” Arthur asserted as he stood up with the aid of Francis and a misaligned pew. “I refuse to do that. I don’t care what you might have done in the past, because we all do stupid shit in our lives. It’s not my job to punish you for your faults.”</p><p>“That’s… Very noble of you…”</p><p>“It’s also extremely fucking adorable,” Antonio intruded, head in his hands as he feigned a warm gush at the display before him. “And it's also so, so <em>repulsive</em>.”</p><p>Utilising his claws, he grabbed a hold of the rug that lined the aisle of the church and yanked it hard – hard enough with his newfound supernatural strength to send both blondes stumbling to the ground, and then whizzing towards him with the rest of the rug. <em> So easy. </em> Antonio stared down at them from where he stood on the stone altar and clicked his fingers to reignite some of the candles in the area, lighting up the room. The terror in them both was now more real than ever and more visible. But so was their bond, their solidarity. <em> Pathetic. </em></p><p>“You know, boys,” he mused aloud as they stared back up at him, “I’m starting to wonder if I’ll get any extra prize for returning home with two souls instead of one.”</p><p>“Over my dead body,” Francis hissed, fixing his grip on the candlestick and leaping up to take a swing at the demon.</p><p>Antonio avoided it easily, of course, taking a step to the side. Then he jumped down to their level, setting his marauding sights on the blonde priest. “That’s kind of the whole idea, Franny. Your body, and then his.”</p><p>“Don’t you dare!”</p><p>“Such passion, my gosh… What anger, what <em> bite </em>,” the demon remarked, taunting the priest. “Doesn’t it feel good? Be angry, let it take control and come tear me apart.” A laugh passed his lips. “Who knows? Maybe it’ll be as fun as those nights you and I slept together…”</p><p>It was enough to set the Frenchman off. He practically threw himself at the demon, candlestick in hand, and so the series of swings, dodges, taunts and grunts ensued. </p><p>Arthur had to do something. He couldn’t let Francis lose, he couldn’t let him be taken away. He had been the first person to take the time to get to know him and how he ticked in the last few years he had lived in that empty, worthless village. He hadn’t made a fuss over his blindness. He had made him feel normal, human. And now that he could see Francis for himself he just had to protect that stupid head of hair of his and those downtrodden eyes because if Francis could make a grumpy bastard like himself just that bit happier, then he should do the same in return.</p><p>Seeing that Antonio and Francis were both enthralled in their motions, the former distracted by the fun he seemed to be having, Arthur saw with it an opportunity. Whilst they were occupied, he grabbed the second candlestick from the altar and held it close. His saving grace. He then had to wait for his next opportunity – a short wait, to his relief. </p><p>Antonio had his back to Arthur now. He couldn’t see him, too wrapped up in the fight. <em> This is for Francis</em>, the Brit told himself, and that was when he made his own attack: at the precise moment when the demon’s guard was dropped, having just avoided a swing from Francis, Arthur brought down the metal candlestick on the side of the brunette’s head. It seemed he had a strength he had not expected, given that the being took the hit poorly and crashed down sideways into the edge of the altar in all its solid stone glory.</p><p>With a surge of confidence that they could do this, Arthur gestured for Francis to come to his side and stay alert. He had a lightly bleeding claw mark down the side of his face, the fabric of his shirt was slightly torn... They watched together as Antonio picked himself up with a groan and hiss – as he turned to stare at them both with a trail of dark, black blood coming from a crack in his temple. Incredulity, shock and anger was all that he showed.</p><p>It was now Francis’ turn to show his strength and stand up for himself. Antonio barely had a second to gather himself and prepare for a set of strong hands clasping tight around his neck. The blonde had him pressed right up against the altar and they were staring at each other intensely.</p><p>At first, Antonio tried to be funny: “Is this an appropriate time to say, ‘<em>choke me, Father</em>’?” but the humour was not shared and Francis’ grip only grew tighter. Now it was the demon who looked scared. “O-Okay, look, I-I’m sorry!” he began to stammer, shrinking in on himself. To Francis, this felt… Good. Right. “I— I’ll go, I-I’ll leave you alone!” <em> So, so good... </em> “Just don’t k-ki— <em> P-Please</em>…!”</p><p>A hand fell down on Francis’ shoulder and the Frenchman glanced away from watering, pleading green eyes to look at a different set of green eyes that held a different kind of fear.</p><p>“Let go, Francis,” Arthur said to him, soft (now that was the <em> true </em> voice of an angel). “How does this make you a better person? What do you gain from hurting him? From killing him?”</p><p>He couldn’t answer. What did he gain indeed? This demon had tormented him for a month before he had fled France, and then after that, he had plagued his mind, made him fear each day he left the consecrated confines of the church and his temporary home at the vicarage. It would be revenge. It was his fault that his soul had been marked. But… Was it? Francis was not perfect. Far from it. Antonio was just… Doing his job… Cleaning up the mess— No, the <em> scum </em> of humanity…</p><p>Francis lessened his grip and his resolve faltered. “Absolutely nothing,” he soon replied quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re right.” He gave Arthur an apologetic smile. “This is wrong, this is—"</p><p>A cry of burning agony ripped through the air. </p><p>“This is payment completed,” Antonio finished for him, yanking his hand from the Frenchman’s chest and pulling out the rest of his soul. “Thank you so much.”</p><p>Francis collapsed to the floor. He was gone, no pulse, no air in his lungs, but Antonio figured that Arthur would work that out on his own. </p><p>The demon gently rubbed his neck and looked with a strange fondness at the white flaming orb in his other hand. It was a shame it ended this way, so frightful and violent. If he had only received some cooperation, it could have gone so much smoother. He could have made it easy. He could have made it quick. But oh well, he was used to such encounters by now, and they had their fun moments, too...</p><p>Antonio extinguished the orb in his fist, the soul now whole once more, and his gaze fell instead upon Arthur. He had instantly dropped to Francis’ side, trying with a futile effort to wake him up. </p><p>“It’s your fault he’s dead,” the demon hummed. It would be such a beautiful stab wound to his heart. “You should have let him kill me. But you let him drop his guard. His death is technically on your hands, now.”</p><p>The demon went to walk away, hoping to retrieve his hoodie before he took off back home. His claws sunk away into his fingers, his horns retreated into his head, his tail vanished into nothing. But even so, he was stopped before he could make it more than three full steps.</p><p>“Bring him back,” Arthur demanded. The fire had passed to him, now, it seemed. “Give him back what you stole!’</p><p>Antonio took a deep breath in and slowly breathed it out through his nose. <em> Clueless fucking mortals. </em> He turned sharply, his features flat and dark, and he glared down at Arthur.</p><p>“Do you want to know why he is going to Hell?” he asked, to which he got no reply. Not that he had needed one. This was a lesson that had to be given: a lesson in humility, morality, humanity. “He has killed two people in the last few years, <em>cariño</em>. A child and a lover.” He did not care for the horror rising in the blonde’s eyes. “Gluttony got him drunk, and like a fool, he got in his car, drove home, and rammed into an innocent six-year-old boy in the middle of the road.”</p><p>“No,” Arthur tried to protest, but his voice was weak. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing – he couldn’t believe that this was Francis he was talking about.</p><p>“He later found a love, despite his flaws, a young and pretty woman,” Antonio pressed on, voice filling up with a thick venom. “She was devoted to him, and yet, he got it into his head that she was unfaithful. He gained Envy of the man he thought she was seeing. A few more drinks later, and his hands were swiftly around her throat and she died in his arms.”</p><p>He wanted it to stop. He didn’t want to hear any more. Francis had— He had done such awful things, he had hurt innocent people…</p><p>“A failed suicide attempt later, he was depressed and lonely and his black heart couldn’t take it.”</p><p>
  <em> Stop it. </em>
</p><p>“But even back then, while he was supposedly in love, he would be unhappy. And it brought him to the arms of a stranger, the damned hypocrite.”</p><p>
  <em> Enough, that’s enough. </em>
</p><p>“Oh, but you should have seen him, his face, his confidence. He had a love but he loved his special, secret lover more. He was like a child, so <em> thrilled </em> to have a new toy to play with!”</p><p>
  <em> No more, please! </em>
</p><p>“I didn’t mind it, of course. The sex was great! I suppose he must have had a lot of practice. But once you become bound to an incubus, you give yourself to Lust, and he foolishly bound himself to me just over a month ago. That is why <em> I </em>am the one who came for him.”</p><p>
  <em> STOP! </em>
</p><p>“So tell me, Arthur,” Antonio asked, crouching down to meet the Brit at eye level, his tone gentle and soft and <em> wrong </em>. “Do you still think he would have been worth saving?”</p><p>He hesitated, of course. Who wouldn’t? The man had killed two people. He had let himself fall from grace in the most horrific way possible. He had given himself to sin despite his time spent training to be a priest, time spent learning the moral lessons that should have stopped him from committing such heinous acts. But, in the end…</p><p>“Yes, I do,” he answered truthfully. “Because anyone is worth saving. Anyone is worth giving a second chance."</p><p>Antonio seemed unamused by the response, but he was not angry. His face fell to a simple neutral look – though, if anything, it were almost pitying him. Pitying Arthur. Why?</p><p>All the while, the demon was tired, so he got up and brushed himself off and brushed himself free of Arthur. “I had best be going,” he said with a sigh. “There’s nothing that I need to do here any longer.”</p><p>Arthur stood up with him, however. “He was right. You’re a monster.”</p><p>“Glad to see your lovely eyes are working fine,” came a dismissive scoff.</p><p>“A bastard and a monster,” the blonde reiterated. That got the demon’s attention. “And you’re a nothing more than a fucking weak coward!”</p><p>In a flash, cold fingers were pressed against his temples just as before (albeit a little more forceful), and the Brit sucked in a breath. But he wasn’t scared anymore. Not of demons, not of Hell, not of the Devil. That night had hardened him and solidified in him only a contempt. A burning hatred. They had taken away the one thing that had made him happy, even it had been a fleeting moment in his life. They had stolen a chance to live a normal life again.</p><p>“What are you doing to do, take away my sight?” He wouldn’t have cared. “Go on, make me blind.”</p><p>“I don’t want to make you blind,” Antonio responded, however. He had something much more impressive in mind: “I am going to give you more sight than any other human alive possesses, and then we will see who is the <em>coward</em>.”</p><p>He didn’t give Arthur a chance to ask what that meant. He simply focused his energy and let the magic flow through his fingertips, slipping straight into the other’s body. Arthur would not notice a difference at first, he knew. It would take time. But where was the fun in explaining to him all of the rules? Nowhere, was the answer. This would serve him right for thinking of himself as superior.</p><p>“You’re cursed, now: your blood, your mind, your soul,” the demon declared as he peeled his hands away. There was a smug look in his eyes as Arthur stared at him, confused. “Until the day you die,” he went on, “you’ll be able to see anything and everything that lives in the supernatural world. Demons, witches, fairies, werewolves…”</p><p>“How is that a curse—?”</p><p>“It comes at a high price.” His lips slowly pulled up into a smile. “Just as these creatures are known to you, you are known to them, <em> Arthur James Kirkland </em>. Your name is marked. Some of them will want to be rid of the only human alive that can expose them to the world.”</p><p>Arthur took a moment to absorb the heavy information. Whatever it meant, he would find out another time, but there was one thing he had to know in that exact moment. It was something that had bothered him from almost the very start of the short time he had known Antonio.</p><p>“Who are you?” he questioned.</p><p>“I’m Antonio. A demon, quite clearly.”</p><p>“But you’re not, are you?” Arthur contradicted, shaking his head in negation, too sure of his own suspicions. “You have powers no ordinary demon could have.”</p><p>
  <em> Ah, at last, someone who sees that… </em>
</p><p>“What makes you so sure?”</p><p>“You asked me before if I believed, and I said I did – in Hell if nothing else,” the blonde rambled on. “That’s how I know you’re not who you say you are. If demons are real, then presumably, so are the circles of Hell, the different kinds of demons and their more powerful leaders. So, I’ll ask you again: who are you?”</p><p>Antonio smiled wide. “Would you like a hint?” he offered up.</p><p>He approached the other close. He cupped his warm (so, so <em> soft!</em>) cheek. His other arm slipped around his back and held him close. The blonde did not protest to any of this, which only let the demonic being continue. Without warnig, he pressed his lips against the other’s and he let his taste linger there, just for a moment, just to give him that oh so special <em> hint </em> he needed. He even dared a suck, a nibble, a sultry look shared between four green eyes.</p><p>Arthur was left speechless as the brunette pulled away. Part of him wanted more of that sweetness, the warmth, the connection. The name ‘Asmodeus’ hung in the air but it was lost to him for a moment.</p><p>“Well, this has been a roller coaster ride, but I really must go,” Antonio remarked as he walked away and retrieved his hoody, calling back to the Brit. “I hope we meet again, Arthur.”</p><p>Flinging the hoodie over his arm, the demon halted for a moment, and his hand then trailed down his thigh to the chain hanging there. It was a risk. It was also a bit of fun. He reached for one of the sets of keys and unhooked a single silver one, holding it tight for a moment. A fun risk. No harm could really come of this...</p><p>“I really do like you, Arthur. You’re a special one. So here’s a little something,” Antonio said, tossing the key over towards the Brit. “If you ever find yourself in Hell, please, feel free to come and visit me. Maybe we can have some more fun like tonight.”</p><p>And just like that, Arthur was left alone in the church, a few black wisps of smoke the only indication of a previous presence. He eyed the silver key. Francis’ body lay still at his feet.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Written purely for indulgence, but I hope that, If you've made it this far, you've enjoyed something about this work.</p><p>I do love me some good demonic fun.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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